


Risk

by cybel



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Episode Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybel/pseuds/cybel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events on Cephlon and the acquisition of Orac, Blake and Avon must each decide whether to accept the risk involved in admitting their feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Risk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Robin Hood (fan)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Robin+Hood+%28fan%29).



> An earlier edit of this story was published in 1994 in the zine **Playfellows 5** by Merry Men Press.

Blake was deep in thought as he turned the corner into the corridor leading to the crew quarters, so it took him a moment to notice Avon, and a moment longer to respond to what he saw.

"Avon, are you all right?" he asked when it finally sank in that the computer tech was slumped against the wall, one hand clutching his abdomen. His eyes were tightly shut, his face gaunt and gleaming with perspiration. 

"Of course I'm not all right, you cretin," Avon rasped. "I'm dying, in case you have forgotten, and although that fact might be quite acceptable to the universe at large, it is definitely not all right with me." He laughed hollowly. "Lord Avon, savior of a race. What a joke." Too bright eyes opened and looked up at Blake. "I'd change it all if I could. I'd let them all die to save myself."

"Would you, Avon? I doubt that."

"Don't doubt it, Blake. Don't doubt it."

"Here," Blake said. "Let me help you to your cabin." He reached out and gathered Avon close, offering warmth and strength in place of the cold comfort of hard metal.

Avon tried to pull away, but weakness undermined his efforts and he had to grab Blake for support. He buried his face against Blake's chest as his cramps intensified.

Blake held on firmly until the spasms passed then lifted the unresisting man and carried him down the hall to his quarters. Once inside, he laid Avon on the bed and asked, "Where are your pills?"

"Pocket," Avon groaned, one hand reaching ineffectually to locate them.

"I'll get them." Blake stilled the blindly questing hand, frowning when he noticed how cold it felt. Peripherally he also noticed how fine boned and soft skinned it felt in his own large, calloused hand. His jaw tightening in a grim line, he set Avon's hand back down on the bed with deliberate care.

Reaching into the pocket Avon had indicated, Blake pulled out the small bottle of pills Cally had dispensed to each of their radiation-poisoned crewmates. Shaking out a couple he said, "Open your mouth." Avon did not seem to hear him. "Avon," Blake repeated firmly, "open your mouth."

This time the tech complied, and Blake set the pills on Avon’s tongue, where they immediately began to dissolve. A moment later Avon's eyes closed and he let out a long breath, facial muscles relaxing, leaving him looking uncharacteristically peaceful.

"Better?" Blake asked.

"Better," Avon admitted. He opened his eyes with an effort and smiled faintly. "Thank you," he said. Before Blake could answer, Avon’s eyes slid shut again and his breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Looking down at him, Blake blinked. In that single unguarded moment of relief, Avon had revealed more of himself than Blake had ever expected to see. Too weak to dissemble, too tired to shield, he had given Blake one clear glimpse of what lay hidden in the depths of his tortured soul.

The rebel shuddered, riding a crest of unexpected tenderness. "We will find the antidote," he promised the sleeping man. "I won't lose you. Not now. Not ever."

He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down a pale, sunken cheek then quickly pulled them away. Resolutely, he turned and left the cabin.

\--

Blake sank down onto the flight deck couch with an exaggerated sigh. Things had been hectic since they had brought Orac on board, and he had not had time to dwell on his elation at Avon's return to health.

Not only Avon's, he reminded himself, throwing a guilty glance over his shoulder at Jenna. He had also been worried about her and the others, and he was pleased and thankful for their recoveries as well. Blake cared about people, all people, not only those for whom he harbored personal feelings.

What he felt for Avon was something else entirely from what he felt for people in general or even for the rest of his crew in particular. Avon had fascinated and attracted him from the beginning. It was Avon, if anyone, to whom Blake listened, Avon who tempered his sometimes admittedly ill-considered zeal for his cause, and Avon who forced him to listen to the voice of reason when everything he believed in demanded immediate action.

And it was Avon he had recently found himself turning to more and more for emotional sustenance. But it wasn't until he came so close to losing the tech that Blake had finally faced the truth of what Avon truly meant to him. No matter how one-sided the relationship, it was Avon, and only Avon, whom he loved.

He jumped as a voice broke his reverie. "Thinking of new and different ways to get us all killed, Blake? To get _me_ killed?" Despite the cynicism of the words, Avon's voice was genial, his face betraying only mild curiosity.

Blake shrugged off the disquiet the question engendered. Avon meant nothing by it; it was just his way. "No," he answered. "There are far too many others already doing that for me to need to do so as well."

Something like a smile curled Avon's lips, though it did not touch his eyes. "So true," he said, white teeth flashing. "But you still seem to spend an inordinate amount of time doing just that. It is one of your most annoying qualities."

"Do I have any qualities that you don't find annoying?" Blake asked, deliberately lowering his voice and turning on his charm.

Much to Blake's surprise and satisfaction, the tech looked slightly taken aback. "I hadn't thought about it," he said finally, "but if I think of any I'll let you know." He turned abruptly and went to the table where Orac now resided, starting once again his interminable fiddling with the powerful little computer's innards.

Blake mentally chided himself for playing games with Avon. A class 'Touch-Me-Not' Alpha, Avon was hardly the type to be casually seduced any more than Blake was the type to carry out such a casual seduction. And yet, he _had_ responded just now, after a fashion.

It suddenly occurred to Blake that perhaps 'casual' was the only type of affair Avon might conceivably ever indulge himself in. After all, casual affairs did not necessitate any real intimacy, any real lowering of guards, any real giving of self. And if the tech thought that having a casual affair with Blake was his own idea, if he was under the impression that he was the seducer, the one in control of the encounter...

Blake took a deep breath and then let it out again. He knew the campaign he was planning was very possibly the most dangerous one he had embarked upon to date. It would require careful planning and even more careful execution to bring it off. Avon must not imagine, under any circumstances, that Blake had engineered a liaison out of love. One mistake and Avon would be forever out of his reach, or, worse yet, he would realize the true depth of Blake's feelings and would twist them around and use them against him.

Setting his doubts aside, Blake made his decision. The rewards outweighed the risks. Winning Avon, even a small part of Avon, was worth any risk.

He slapped the arm of the couch resolutely, earning a quizzical glance from Jenna. "I'll be in my cabin if anything comes up," he said, getting to his feet and smiling blindingly at the lovely smuggler. "I have plans to make."

\--

Jenna stared after Blake as he quickly disappeared from sight. "What was that all about?" she asked no one in particular.

"What was what all about?" Vila ambled onto the flight deck, licking felnut butter off his fingers. Without waiting for an answer he added, "What's the matter with Blake? He almost ran me down in the corridor. Didn't even apologize, just gave me a bloody great bear hug and was off. Smashed my sarnie," he added forlornly, holding up the squashed remains as evidence.

Jenna frowned. "I haven't a clue." She turned toward the computer tech. "You were talking to him a few minutes ago, Avon. Can you explain the way he was behaving just now?"

The corners of Avon's mouth quirked. "I would never be so foolish as to attempt to explain anything about our fearless leader. His mental processes, I am afraid, are quite beyond my capacity to fathom."

"That's because he isn't one of your flippin' computers, is he?" Vila muttered, not quite under his breath. Avon pointedly ignored him.

"Oh well," Jenna shrugged, "I'm sure he'll confide in us in due course."

"Right before someone starts shooting at us again, no doubt," Avon jeered, earning a dirty look from Vila.

"No doubt," Jenna answered mildly and turned her attention back to her navigation console.

\--

Blake sat slumped on the edge of his bed with one elbow propped on a knee, absently chewing on a much-abused knuckle. His high spirits had long since faded, leaving him feeling irresolute and depressed.

Over the last few hours he had devised numerous plans of action only to immediately discard them. The more thought he put into his problem, the more untenable it seemed that Avon could ever be manipulated into seducing him. After all, why would the tech even want to? Avon was handsome, desirable. What could he possibly find appealing in a big, ugly man like Blake? Avon could have anyone he wanted if he only set his mind to it.

And that was another problem. Blake didn't have a clue as to what Avon wanted. He had never shown the slightest interest in initiating a sexual encounter with anyone on board, and not for lack of encouragement, either.

Cally had made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that she would not look unfavorably on any advances Avon might wish to make, and Vila flirted with the computer tech shamelessly. Even Jenna could occasionally be seen eyeing Avon speculatively despite her professed disdain for the man. In fact, the only person on board who seemed to be immune to Avon's charisma was Gan, who remained unswervingly faithful to the memory of his murdered wife. Why, then, would Avon bother himself with Blake?

Blake pushed a hand through his hair. What was wrong with him? If Avon was a Federation base Blake had decided to attack, the tech would have been rubble by now. But because this was a matter of love, not war, the rebel leader found himself unable to act.

Tugging off his clothes, too listless to bother putting on his night gear, he lay down on his bed and immediately fell into a troubled sleep.

\--

A sharp jolt followed by a rolling shudder through the fabric of the ship jarred Blake awake at the same time as it threw him out of bed. His head impacted solidly with the deck, and he immediately lost consciousness again.

The next thing he knew, warm hands were gripping his shoulders, and an urgent voice was calling his name. Blake groaned and opened one eye, closing it again when his cabin lights pierced through his brain. "What happened?" he asked, trying to ignore an impressive variety of aches and pains.

Avon's voice, tight and unsettled, said, "We skimmed the outer edge of some sort of anomaly that didn't register on Zen's detectors until it was too late. There was some minor damage to the ship which the auto-repair units are already working on."

"Everyone?"

"We're all uninjured," Avon reassured him, "except for you, it would seem. I came to check on you when you didn't respond to the alert." The hands that had been biting into Blake's shoulders like grim death when he first awakened were now curved around his neck, gently massaging the base of his skull.

"I fell out of bed," Blake explained groggily, realizing how stupid that sounded but too distracted by the glorious comfort of Avon's hands to care. “I must have hit my head."

"Hmm." Avon sounded equally distracted. "Can you get up?"

"I think so. As long as I do it slowly." Blake managed to achieve a sitting position before a wave of vertigo overtook him.

"Lean on me," Avon ordered, "until the dizziness passes."

Blake obeyed gratefully, still acutely aware of the tech's hands, warm and soothing against his bare skin. Bare skin. His eyes flew open, and instinctively he started to pull away, painfully aware of his nudity against the cool smoothness of leather. Then in mid-retreat he stopped and, changing tactics, leaned even more heavily against the other man. "I'm sorry to be such a bother," he said, hoping that Avon would attribute the tremor in his voice to his injuries.

Avon shrugged, and the slight movement against his cheek made Blake shiver in reaction. There seemed to be a note of real concern in the tech's voice as he asked, "Do you think you can stand up now? The floor is cold, and you're shivering."

Blake tipped his head back and looked up through lowered lashes. Instantly he looked away again, not daring to respond to the tense, shaken expression on Avon's usually cold and controlled features. A great contentment flooded over him, washing away his earlier doubts and misgivings. Avon was aroused. Avon did want him. "Yes," Blake answered as soon as he felt he could trust his voice, "I can stand up."

With Avon’s help Blake got to his feet, then, feigning more weakness than he actually felt, he pretended to lose his balance. Blake pressed their bodies together momentarily but moved away again as soon as he felt Avon shudder and lean into the intimate contact. Fearing to reveal his own arousal at this stage, he turned away and lay down on the bed, pulling up the covers.

After a long moment Avon cleared his throat. "You should let me take you to the medical unit. You could have a concussion."

"No," Blake answered hastily, "I just need a little rest, that's all."

"But—"

"Ask Cally to drop by if you're concerned. She'll verify that I'm fine."

"If you say so," Avon agreed doubtfully. "I'll be going, then."

Blake heard a soft thud and the scraping of metal against metal as if Avon had bumped into a piece of furniture during his retreat, then the door whooshed open and shut, leaving him alone. Releasing the breath he had been holding, Blake groaned and reached down to encircle his throbbing erection in a trembling hand. "Next time, Avon," he swore through gritted teeth as he brought himself to a hasty and unsatisfactory climax, "it will be you who comes in my hand."

His labored breathing still loud in his ears, it occurred to Blake that he should be feeling jubilant. Instead he felt vaguely dirty, as if he had somehow betrayed Avon's trust. Ignoring the throbbing of his head and the moisture inexplicably pooling in the corners of his eyes, he set about the task of trying to go back to sleep.

\--

Over the next few days Avon haunted the corridors of the ship like a hungry panther. He would have denied to the death that there was any pattern to his movements, but eventually he always seemed to end up wherever Blake happened to be at the time.

Not that Blake seemed to care one way or the other. In fact, he usually seemed to be unaware of Avon's presence, or at least unconcerned by it, and Avon found the rebel leader's sudden indifference toward him disconcerting. Avon was not used to being ignored, least of all by Blake, and he was forced to admit to himself that he didn't like it.

What he liked even less, however, was the thought that the change in Blake's attitude might be his own fault, that his atypical behavior in Blake's cabin had caused the other man to withdraw out of embarrassment or, worse yet, out of disgust. Surely Blake realized that Avon had simply been concerned over the well-being of a fellow crewmate. Surely he realized that Avon had responded to him out of that concern, not out of desire.

As if to mock his carefully constructed rationalizations, however, Avon's traitorous memory took that moment to recall the incident in minute detail. He had felt concern, yes, but that was not what he remembered now. What he did remember was the way Blake's body had glowed in the diffuse lighting of his cabin, the way Blake's hard muscles had moved under his hands, and the way Blake's hair had brushed against his cheek. But most of all he remembered the exquisite thrill of heat he had felt when Blake had stumbled and their bodies had collided, and the subsequent sense of loss and bewilderment he had been left with when Blake had recoiled from that contact.

Not desire indeed. Avon laughed mirthlessly, wondering when he had begun to lie to himself about Blake. He had an uncomfortable feeling that it had been a very long time ago, possibly even as far back as their time together on the _London_. That would certainly explain a great deal, he thought wryly. Why I'm still here on _Liberator_ for instance. But surely that's insane, he thought. Lust is hardly worth risking my life for, is it?

No, a small voice at the back of his mind answered him, but love is.

That thought stopped Avon dead in his tracks, and he shook his head. No. He desired Blake, and that was all. He wanted to possess the rebel leader, to dominate him. To force Blake to submit to _his_ wishes for a change. That he might want anything else, anything more, was unthinkable.

Liar, his little voice berated. Pitiful liar. You do love him, and if you thought for even a moment that he loved you in return, you'd gladly get down on your knees for him.

Taking or being taken, what would it matter if it was done out of love? But Blake did not love him. How could he? After all, there was nothing lovable about Avon. Blake only tolerated him because his genius with computers was useful in advancing the rebellion.

Still, whatever the reason, Blake did need him. The rebel had made it abundantly clear on many occasions that he did not want Avon to leave _Liberator ___. Might Blake not, then, be willing to make some concessions to keep him on board?

Avon swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. It just might work, he thought. A simple business arrangement. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours. 

It would not be enough, would not be what Avon really wanted, but it would be something, wouldn't it? More than he had now, and all he could realistically hope for in the future. And, with a little luck, Blake would never discern his true motives. That was a humiliation Avon would not be able to bear. 

But how does one man go about seducing another? he wondered. He'll likely think I've gone crazy if I suddenly start to flirt with him. Perhaps a straightforward approach would be more in order. I'll just go to his cabin and make my offer. Take it or leave it; it doesn't matter which. 

Only it did matter. It mattered far too much. That was the problem. 

Avon's expression was grim. The stakes in this game were very high, the highest he had ever played for. He could lose everything: his dignity, his self-esteem, even his position on _Liberator_. All for the chance of winning _what_? A place in Blake's bed for as long or as short a time as the rebel felt inclined to have him there. His plan was clearly a fool's course. 

Then I must be a fool, Avon admitted bleakly, because I'm going to take the risk. Damn you, Blake, for bringing me to this. Damn you to everlasting hell. 

\-- 

As it turned out, Avon's 'business arrangement' had to be put off that night. The anomaly they had almost run afoul of had turned out to be a frequent occurrence in the sector they were traveling through, and Avon had remained on the flight deck almost continuously for the past four duty shifts in order to modify their long-range detectors to spot the deviant zones of space before they accidentally ran headlong into one. 

Not at his best to begin with, Avon’s disposition had failed to improve with lack of sleep. A near continuous stream of muttered curses issued from under his console, becoming increasingly more vitriolic as the hours passed. 

Vila had long since removed himself from the area, and even Cally and Gan were notably absent from the flight deck whenever their presence was not specifically required. Only Jenna, ensconced at her navigation console, and Blake, manning the detector panel, reluctantly remained to bear the brunt of Avon's ill temper. 

There was scarcely enough room for Avon to maneuver his laser probe among the delicate components arrayed above him, and his back was beginning to ache abominably. Neck and shoulder muscles knotted tighter and tighter as he grew more exhausted and frustrated until, inevitably, a muscle spasmed. He let out a yelp as the probe suddenly dropped from lax fingers, scraping his right cheek as it fell. 

"Avon?" Blake's voice, muffled by the equipment between them, floated down to the tech like an auditory déjà vu. "Are you all right?" 

All the anger drained out of Avon at Blake's frank concern, leaving only the exhaustion behind. "No," he admitted reluctantly, "I'm not. Help me out of here, Blake, I've got a cramp." With help, Avon scooted out from under the console. 

"You've hurt yourself," Blake murmured unnecessarily when he saw Avon's face. He ran a thumb down the scored cheek, and it came away bloody. Reaching into his pocket with his other hand, Blake pulled out a handkerchief. 

"It's just a scratch." As Avon took the handkerchief, their fingers brushed, and on a whim he grabbed Blake's other hand, wiping away the drops that stained it before he raised the handkerchief and pressed it to his cheek. 

Blake's gaze wavered then steadied. "Still, it will need a regenerating pad." Looking closely at the tech he added quietly, "You look all in, Avon." 

Avon's jaw clamped shut then relaxed. "We all need some rest. Jenna has been on duty for as long as I have. As, for that matter, have you." 

Blake nodded, rubbing his temples. "You're right, of course. As long as we keep our speed down to standard it should be safe to keep moving through this sector without the modified detectors. At that speed Zen can keep us clear without manual backup." He turned toward the pilot. "Jenna, please ask Cally and Vila to report here to relieve us." 

"Gladly," Jenna murmured, pushing thick blonde hair back off her shoulders. "Well," she said when Cally and Vila had both acknowledged her message, "I for one could do with a drink. How about you, Blake? I have a bottle of black market brandy in my cabin that would do marvelous things for that headache of yours." 

"No, thank you," Blake answered, earning an unnoticed grin from Avon, who had turned away, ostensibly to collect his scattered tools. "It had better be a shower and bed for me. I'm afraid I'm more tired than I realized; I'd likely fall asleep on you." 

"Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't mind," Avon murmured wickedly. 

Jenna glared at the tech, but Blake chose diplomatically to misunderstand his comment. "Nevertheless," he professed, offering his most charming smile to the scowling woman, "I would never forgive myself if that were to happen. Another time?" 

Still looking daggers at Avon, Jenna said, "Of course, Blake. Standing offer. You know that." 

"Good." Blake yawned hugely as Cally and Vila came onto the flight deck for their turn of duty. By the time he had finished giving them their instructions Jenna was gone, but Avon stood waiting. 

"Does your neck feel any better?" Blake asked as they left the flight deck together. 

Avon started to admit that it did then thought better of it. "Not really," he said, "and I hate to take medication if I can avoid it. If Cally were not on duty I would ask her for a massage." 

___Blake hesitated for a moment, then offered, "Would I do instead? I don't have Cally's magic touch, but I wouldn't mind giving it a go if you think it would help."_ _ _

___Avon pretended to consider the offer for a moment then nodded._ _ _

___"All right, then," Blake said. "Drop by my cabin in about half an hour, why don't you. That will give you time to take care of that cheek, and we can both freshen."_ _ _

___"Fine." Avon feigned a calm he didn't feel. "I'll be there."_ _ _

___\--_ _ _

___It was going to happen tonight. Tonight, Blake would have Avon in his bed._ _ _

___Blake stood under the hot spray of the shower and shivered. His cock twitched in anticipation, and he was suddenly afraid. If just the thought of making love with Avon makes me hard, he thought, leaning his head against the spongy wall of the shower stall, what will happen when I see him, when I touch him? Too much too fast is sure to scare him away. He's always accused me of being a manipulative bastard. If he finds out I've manipulated him into this as well, he'll never forgive me._ _ _

___Blake wasn't sure how long he stood under the cascading water, thoughts in turmoil, but he was pulled back to reality by the activation of the door buzzer._ _ _

___"Bloody hell!" He slapped off the shower controls so hard his hand ached and quickly pulled on a toweling robe. Ignoring the puddles he left on the deck with every step, Blake jogged through his sleeping quarters to activate the door release._ _ _

___Avon's startled glance quickly turned to amusement as he looked the dripping man up and down. "You did say half an hour, didn't you, Blake?" he asked. "I could go away and come back back later if you'd like."_ _ _

___"No!" Blake protested. He forced a smile. "I was having a little trouble with my shower controls," he lied, "and it took me longer to fix them than I anticipated. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. I'll just be a minute."_ _ _

___Avon was inside with the door securely closed behind him before Blake went back into the fresher to dry off and shrug into lounging clothes. When he returned, Avon was stretched out on the bed with a glass of soma in one hand. Hoping his face didn't give him away, Blake raised an eyebrow._ _ _

___The other man smiled, but a darting tongue over dry lips gave away his nervousness. "You said to make myself comfortable," he explained, settling his shoulders deeper into the stacked pillows._ _ _

___Blake, encouraged, returned the smile. "And are you?"_ _ _

___"Oh yes. Quite comfortable."_ _ _

___"I'm glad to hear it. Are you ready to start?"_ _ _

___Avon blinked, his eyes wary. "Start what?"_ _ _

___"Your massage, of course," Blake answered innocently. "That is what you came for, isn't it?"_ _ _

___"Of course." The suspicion in Avon's eyes receded, and he flung out his arms in a dramatic gesture. "How do you want me?"_ _ _

___Blake swallowed hard, dropping his eyes to Avon's leather covered chest. "You're wearing too many clothes," he said then flushed when Avon laughed. The look of real amusement on the tech's face disarmed his defensive response, however, and Blake laughed too._ _ _

___"For once we are in complete agreement." Avon sat up on the bed and started to unfasten his tunic. As he did so, Blake watched his hands, fascinated as always by their deft competency. I wonder if they're as sure as that when he's making love, he thought, totally enthralled._ _ _

___The sound of his name dragged him back to the present. "What?"_ _ _

___"I asked if you would help me off with this thing," Avon repeated. "I'm too stiff to manage it alone."_ _ _

___"Of course."_ _ _

___Blake sat down on the bed, taking care not to get too close, and helped Avon remove the heavy garment. Underneath the tech wore a thin silk shirt that molded to his body like a second skin, allowing a few stray wisps of dark body hair to peek out above the v-shaped neckline. If he had been completely naked the effect could not have been more erotic._ _ _

___"Lie down on your stomach," Blake ordered hoarsely. Avon obeyed, bending his elbows and resting his face on the backs of his clasped hands._ _ _

___The larger man began to knead the bunched muscles of Avon's neck and shoulders, working mechanically, not allowing himself to think about what he was doing or to whom he was doing it. But it was difficult not to notice the texture of the pale skin under his hands, the fineness of the dark hair that his fingers riffled through as he massaged upward from the base of the skull. And it was difficult to ignore Avon's soft breaths as Blake found each tight muscle and forced it to relax, forced it to give in to his will._ _ _

___If only I could make the rest of him respond to me as surely, he thought, there would be no need for this game we're playing. This farcical, hopeless game._ _ _

___Depression suddenly settled over Blake like a shroud. How could he have been so foolish as to believe that getting Avon into bed would be enough? Blake didn't just want to have sex with the tech, he wanted to make love to him, and once they started there would be no way to pretend otherwise. Every touch, every breath, every whispered word would betray him._ _ _

___"Blake?"_ _ _

___Bewildered, Blake looked down into passion-glazed eyes. While he had been lost in thought, Avon had turned over, and now Blake found himself caressing the silk-covered chest, absently rubbing hard, peaked nipples. He jerked his hands away._ _ _

___Whatever Blake had been about to say was lost in a sudden starburst of pain. He gasped and reached for his temples, shutting his eyes tightly against the insistent throbbing of his head._ _ _

___"Perhaps you had better lie down before you fall down," Avon said, not unkindly. He made room on the bed for the bigger man, who lay heavily on his back, still gripping his head._ _ _

___Avon chuckled. “We're quite the pair, aren't we? If I'm not dying of radiation poisoning, you've got a concussion. Then when things finally start to look up, I have a backache, and you're incapacitated with a migraine." He chuckled again, ending with a jaw-breaking yawn. "On top of which we're both completely exhausted." He closed his eyes. "Tonight was not one of my better ideas. Definitely... not..."_ _ _

___Blake did not answer. Between his emotional and physical pain he could not really follow what Avon was saying. All he knew for sure was that Avon would go back to his own cabin, leaving Blake alone, and surely that was for the best._ _ _

___Ah, well, he'd sort it all out tomorrow._ _ _

___\--_ _ _

___Avon drifted drowsily up out of sleep feeling better than he had in a very long while. An inveterate insomniac, he could not remember the last time he had fallen asleep the moment his eyes had closed, but he had clearly done just that last night. Now he found himself lying spooned back to front in Blake's arms, and moist lips were pressed against his neck, each rhythmic breath tickling his sensitive skin._ _ _

___Moving tentatively closer, Avon was rewarded by a tightening of the strong arms that encircled him. His pleasure quickly turned to melancholy however at the knowledge that the response was purely reflexive; Blake was undoubtedly still asleep and did not know who it was he was holding so possessively._ _ _

___Resigned to that fact, Avon slowly began to pull away, only to freeze at Blake's softly murmured protest, "Avon, please. Don't go."_ _ _

___Avon relaxed with a deliberate act of will. "So you're awake after all," he said wistfully. "I thought you were asleep and didn't know -"_ _ _

___"That I was holding you?" Blake finished softly. "I know, Avon."_ _ _

___"But you haven't let me go."_ _ _

___"No. Do you want me to?"_ _ _

___Avon pretended to consider the question. In fact, he was on the edge of panic. He had come here to seduce Blake, and it appeared he had achieved that goal. Trouble was, now he had absolutely no idea how to proceed or even if he really wanted to. Feeling exposed and not in control of the situation, he said mockingly, "Well now, that depends on just what you have in mind."_ _ _

___Blake pressed a suspiciously moist cheek against his neck, but when the rebel answered his voice was as coolly taunting as Avon's own had been. "Oh," he said, "I'll think of something."_ _ _

___The hands that had been wrapped around Avon's chest began to make small spirals downward, raising gooseflesh wherever they touched. Reaching Avon's waist they grabbed hold of his undershirt, gently tugged it free, then burrowed beneath it to rest quietly on his quivering abdomen._ _ _

___"Your skin is so soft," Blake whispered._ _ _

___He nuzzled across the nape of Avon's neck, stopping to lick and nip at an ear lobe as his hands traced lazy patterns across Avon’s heaving ribcage. "Still wearing too many clothes, though," Blake sighed. "You always have worn too many clothes." On the last breathless word he tugged the undershirt up and off over Avon's head, tossing it carelessly to the floor._ _ _

___Avon let out a small protesting moan as Blake suddenly withdrew to remove his own clothing, but then the rebel was back, loosening Avon's belt buckle and opening his fly, murmuring appreciation as he freed Avon's straining cock._ _ _

___"What are you waiting for?" Avon groaned. He arched upward, seeking Blake's elusive grasp as blunt-tipped fingers delicately tickled his thickly furred groin. "Get on with it, damn you!"_ _ _

___Still Blake hesitated. "Are you sure, Avon? Are you sure this is what you want?"_ _ _

___"Yes!" Avon hissed. "Yes, it's what I want!"_ _ _

___Blake's fingers trembled as they tugged clumsily at Avon's pants, urging them past rounded buttocks and muscular thighs. He gasped as Avon undulated against him._ _ _

___When Avon was finally naked, he lay panting for a moment then whispered urgently, "Now, Blake. Now!"_ _ _

___This time there was no hesitation as Blake grasped him in his hand, and Avon arched into the touch, whimpering at its perfection. It had never been like this, not even with Anna._ _ _

___His thoughts splintered as Blake's hand began to move on him, exerting pressure from the base of his cock to its head, thumb swirling across the tip, smoothing the pearly drops it found there downward to ease their loving._ _ _

___Avon's breath caught on a sob. Loving. Yes, that was it. He had no doubt now that Blake was loving him._ _ _

___Can it be so simple? he thought, awed. Can it really be so simple?_ _ _

___Then he remembered what he had thought before: _taking or being taken, what does it matter as long as it's done with love? ___, and he knew he wanted to give himself to Blake, wanted for the first time in his life to give himself in spite of the risks and without a thought for the consequences._ _ _

____Avon wrapped his own hand around Blake's, regretfully stilling its motion._ _ _ _

____"What?" Blake asked. "Did I hurt you? What is it?"_ _ _ _

____"No," Avon answered soothingly. "You didn't hurt me." He took Blake's hand in his own, entwining their fingers._ _ _ _

____"Then what is it?" Blake asked. "Why did you stop me?"_ _ _ _

____"Oh, I don't want you to stop," Avon said. "I just want to even things up a bit. You know, give,” he paused, wriggling and smiling as Blake's cock surged uncontrollably into the cleft of his buttocks, "and take."_ _ _ _

____Blake groaned, not even pretending to misunderstand the offer. He reached unsteadily into the cubbyhole in the bedhead and pulled out a tube of lubricant, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Avon. Blake smiled._ _ _ _

____"You expected this?" Avon asked with sultry interest._ _ _ _

____"No, not expected. Rather the opposite, in fact. I just hoped." Blake shrugged self-consciously and returned to the task at hand. He quickly readied himself, then he prepared Avon with exquisite care, his touch as delicate as if he were handling the finest porcelain._ _ _ _

____And all the while Avon lay perfectly still as he considered what was about to happen, what he was allowing to happen._ _ _ _

____It would seem that I trust him as well as love him, he thought hazily, oddly undisturbed by the extraordinary idea. My, my. Will wonders never cease._ _ _ _

____Then all thought stopped and only sensation remained._ _ _ _

____\--_ _ _ _

____Avon lay sprawled on top of Blake, his face nestled in the hollow of the rebel's throat while Blake lightly rubbed a cheek against his hair._ _ _ _

____"Why didn't you tell me?" Avon asked._ _ _ _

____Blake shrugged, tightening his hold on his lover when the movement threatened to dislodge him. "I didn't think you would want this. I thought you might be willing to have sex with me but that you wouldn't allow anything more. I was afraid of losing you if you knew I loved you."_ _ _ _

____"Hmmm. I thought pretty much the same. I was going to offer you a deal: sex in exchange for my continued services in the advancement of your cause."_ _ _ _

____"If we had both stuck to the script, sex might have been all we ever would have had together."_ _ _ _

____Avon raised his head, looking down into Blake's troubled face. "And we would have ended up hating each other."_ _ _ _

____Blake shuddered and closed his eyes. "And now?" he asked._ _ _ _

____"it could still happen. This," Avon indicated the bed and their sweaty, satiated bodies in one broad gesture, "doesn't change who I am or who you are. It won't be easy. Love doesn't always conquer all, you know."_ _ _ _

____Blake opened his eyes, seeking out his lover's intense gaze. "No, it won't be easy; we're neither of us easy men after all. But love has to make a difference, Avon. You do believe it will make a difference, don't you?"_ _ _ _

____Avon nodded slowly. "Yes," he agreed, "I believe it will make a difference."_ _ _ _

____"And that it's worth the risk?"_ _ _ _

____Avon smiled, the same sweet smile Blake had seen on his face after Cephalon. "Oh, yes," he whispered. "Worth any risk." He leaned down for a deep kiss._ _ _ _

____"Then everything will be all right," Blake sighed as soon as he got his breath back._ _ _ _

____Avon didn't answer, but Blake, taking his silence as agreement, did not mind._ _ _ _


End file.
